You Probably Won't Be Surprised How It Ends
by Formerly JVM-SP150
Summary: Merry Christmas to the handful of people who still read my crap! A rewrite of something I was writing a year ago and cancelled. If you're supposed to be reading this, you already know what it's about.


**Author's Note: **Just over a year ago, I was nearly finished with this fanfic... then I gave up and scrapped it and handed it off to a friend to finish. Said friend lost faih in the community immediately after. I can't let this unfinished, so here's the first part of a crappy rewrite. A _**lot**_ has been cut out since the original version and it's supposed to be more jokes and less drama than the original.

Leave a review. Be harsh. Be critical. But most importantly, be _consructive_.

Oh, and by the way? Merry Christmas.

South Park

"You Won't Believe How It Ends"

THE REWRITE

**Chapter One**

_by John_

_(Oct 28th, 2013 - Dec. 25th, 2013)_

It was a crisp and cold Colorado morning in the quiet mountain town of South Park as Kyle Matthew Broflovski began to slowly awaken. It'd been a stressful few weeks with his suspension from school, but it was all finally over. He never thought the day'd come he was looking forward to a Monday but here he was, sitting up, rubbing his eyes and getting out of bed. He stretched, let out a yawn and began walking to his bathroom to brush his teeth.

He had barely made it through the suspension - his parents had been talking about moving him to another school for a while. The education options in the Colorado Rockies were sparse to nothing - he'd have to move away. The only other school that South Park reisdents could commute to was Yardale, and it was only for the highest achievers. It didn't help his father's law firm was drying up by the day. As he finished brushing his teeth and began changing his clothes, he quietly wondered why his family's reputation seemed to be suffering.

Well, his mother was a former United States Secretary of Offense and started a war with Canada, and his father did lead a cat ban despite his own addiction, and that was only scratching the surface of his family's dysfunction. Admittedly, it probably didn't help them to have a son who was nearly kicked out of an elementary school for gay-bashing when fat, racist, foul-mouthed Eric Cartman could shoot another boy point-blank and survive. Kyle shook his head, finishing buttoning his jacket and going downstairs to pour himself some Astro Pops.

"Good morning, bubbe." Sheila Broflovski greeted her son warmly. The days of the authoritarian, all-knowing household mistress were long gone, and she had settled into the role of an oblivious housewife quite well. It took a lot of patience to tolerate a little boy who'd once sang her a bitch in D-minor, but nonetheless, her adjustment was remarkable. She sipped her tea quickly.

"Morning mom, morning dad. Is Ike up yet?" Kyle asked as he poured himself his cereal. Gerald Broflovski, a more attentive father than his credit, nodded towards his son and sipped his coffee as he read the news on his iPad, which had basically been forced on him, despite his wishes for a Surface. Apple kept a tight grip on the family in exchange for the freedom of Kyle's mouth and asshole. In any case, it replaced the traditional Sunday paper quite well.

"No, your little brother's still asleep in his bedroom." Gerald explained, "He was up late last night so we're going to give him another ten minutes." The genius of the family had terrible sleeping habits already, staying up late just to watch political programming. Kyle found a lot of that stuff pretty boring, and ever since the last election'd been kind of a sham, even if for the right reasons, he'd given up hope on that sort of stuff. Democracy his ass.

"Are you excited to be going back to school?" Sheila asked her son as he began eating his cereal. As many issues as they had in the family, it was pretty easy to remind themselves their competition wasn't exactly sterling silver. The physical abuse in the McCormick and Stotch families was something that was usually looked the other way, and most preferred to blatantly ignore the fact Randy Marsh was in fact, a father. There were plenty of jokes to be made about his childishness and his wife's maturity.

"Yeah, it'll be cool to see all my friends again, I guess." Kyle said, taking a bite of cereal. He hadn't spent as much time with the other guys during his time off - there was a good game of Americans vs. Bosnians here and there, but for the most part, he was pretty forgotten without the old Elementary school. At least he kept up on his homework - not that missing out on Mr. Garrison's opinions on TV shows and musicals was much to doom his grade.

"We're just happy to see you back in class." Sheila nodded, bringing three plates of plain omelette to the table, passing one to Gerald, and putting another in Ike's spot, "It's so crazy Principal Victoria would threaten to kick you out of school over such a strange offense, but it's all in the past now. She said it won't even go down on your permanent record, you know. Isn't that great, bubbe?"

"Yeah, great." Kyle finished his last bite of cereal and got up to take care of his dishes. His mother just reminded him of everything he hated about school, not the things he enjoyed. The staff were all either incompetent, dead, or both. Anyone level-headed who didn't die in the process seemed to be smart enough to get out of there - to be honest, he kind of missed Nurse Gollum, freaky dead fetus or not. "I'm going to go get going now. See you guys later." Kyle told his parents as he made his way for the door.

"Have a good day at school, Kyle." Gerald and Sheila both said variations of the same phrase as their only natural-born son left the house. Sheila'd always wanted a big family and hated how she'd destroyed her own hopes as a teenager in Jersey. She and Gerald were lucky enough to get one natural son out of it - but she loved Ike like her own and nothing would change that. They were both her sweet little men and she was excited to see them grow up.

"See you!" Kyle waved out the door, making his way out of the residential district, passing the houses of many of his friends as he got on his way to the inconveniently-located but familiar and iconic bus stop where Eric Cartman and Stan Marsh were already standing in total silence. Kyle joined them, hands in his pockets, feeling nervous and dejected.

"...sup Jewboy?" Eric Cartman asked, raising an eyebrow, "You're finally going to have to start ruining every coming day for us again?"

"Fuck off, Cartman." Kyle replied without missing a beat.

"What? I'm just stating a fact, asshole." Cartman sneered.

"Cartman, leave Kyle alone." Stan said stoically.

"No way. I am sick of Kehl waving his jew privilege around at me all the time. I contribute to Society, too!" Cartman said angrily.

"Cartman, you don't even know what that means." Stan put a hand on his cheek, bored out of his mind already.

"There's no such thing as Jew privilege, Cartman, that's not how the Social Justice system works." Kyle corrected, "You're just using it as an excuse to criticize me for disagreeing with you!"

"Yes it is Kahl! Check your privilege, Jew!" Cartman approached Kyle, getting up in his face as he began shouting.

"Has anyone seen Kenny around today?" Stan asked, not expecting an answer.

"Cartman, how about you get the hell over yourself, huh?" Kyle asked, "Don't you have anything better to do with your life?"

"Make me, you stupid Jew!" Cartman insisted, "What are you going to do? Call the cops on me?"

"FREEZE!" Officer Barbrady stood, gun in hand, eyes narrowed at the boys, "We have you boys surrounded!"

"...wow, that was pretty quick." Cartman put his hands up, as did Stan and Kyle, all three boys nervous and wondering what they'd done wrong this time. Stan looked at his friends and stepped forward,

"Uh, Officer Barbrady, we were just-"

"Look, we just want to take you down to the station and ask you a couple questions." Barbrady explained, "None of you boys are going to be arrested, we just don't know where else to turn."

"Buy why us?" Kyle asked.

"Look, just follow me and everything'll be explained at the Station. I don't really know why I'm here either." Barbrady explained, "Follow me."

xXx

The Park County Police Department was in an activity center on a cold October night, officers everywhere filing papers and reports, preparing to go out and investigate cases or patrol, or just talking at the water cooler. Detective Harrison Yates sat at his desk - not even the highest-ranked officer in Park County could crack this case. He took a drag of his cigarette with a sigh. There were three things that he just couldn't stand - rich black men, prostitution, and murderers. The only rich black man left in town was his own lawyer, Steve Black, the town's johns were all scared out of their minds of the legend of Yolanda, and after the Left-Hand Killer, murder'd become rare... until recently.

There was one fourth thing that he couldn't stand, and that was Mayor McDaniels' bitching.

"Look, the election is next month and my approval rating has completely dipped - between all these allegations of corruption, the whole 'Fag' fiasco a few months ago, the internet bill, and now a whole month of this Jigsaw thing, I need to get my approval ratings up, and if cleaning up crime in this town is the solution, then so be it. I've already lost four, possibly up to five voters."

"Look Mayor, we're doing everything we can to take this bastard out, but we aren't doing it because of your re-election campaign, we're doing it for the safety of every white citizen in the country." he said angrily, "We're questioning the survivors and we're probing possible suspects but the fact is these things take time. Do you have any idea how delicate a procedure like this is?"

"This case is making headlines in California for Christ's sake! I don't want you to take your time, I need some answers now! If I lose re-election, it is on your goddamn head, Yates!" McDaniels screamed.

"Ma'am, with all due respect, don't you think you're being a little harsh?" Murphy "Mitch" Harris, Yates' personal protege, stepped forward.

"Oh cut the crap, like you'd do a better job yourself." she said angrily. Her aide, the balding Johnson, approached Mitch, whispering,

"She's really not always this moody but it's just that time of the year for a politician, you know."

"That does it, Johnson, you're fired! Again!" McDaniels shook her fists with rage.

"Look Mayor, funding's low right now and we don't have enough men to start searching the entire country. Hell, we're monitoring everyone's computers and still have nothing - we have a better profile of who's gay and who's not than who's a murderer. Look, you need to-"

"That's not my problem! You bring me this scumbag before November 6th, do you hear me? I am not going to be this town's Jane Byrne godammit." McDaniels slammed her first on the desk then turned and walked out of the Police Department, taking her aides with her. Yates rubbed his forehead and put the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray,

"Godammit, when did you everything get so serious and melodramatic around here? This town used to be fun." Yates rolled his eyes, "Dawson, any feedback from the laboratory?"

"We don't have any evidence to analyze yet, sir." Dawson said with a shrug.

"Sir, the South Park police officer is here, he has the extra assistance you've requested." Officer Barkley poped his head into the room.

"Bring them in. And get me a latte or something!" Yates ordered, "I swear to God, I am not afraid to replace one of you with a Mexican! I did it before and I'll do it again!"

Barbrady entered, "Detective Yates, I found the Junior Detectivs." he said, leading Cartman, Stan and Kyle into the room, Kyle in his blue shirt with black overalls and a white collar, Stan in a leather jacket and a white T-shirt, and Cartman wearing a banadage around his head, a cop uniform and sunglasses.

"Thank God, you kids are here. We have a serious problem on our hands and by God, we need your help." Yates said, "I had to call in the best detectives this police force has ever had, and we're damn lucky you three are willing to come out of retirement."

"Uh, how much are we going to get paid for this?" Cartman asked, raising his hand.

"That's not important right now, fatass." Kyle said angrily.

"...so, like, what a hundred bucks each?" Stan asked Yartes, before Kyle glared at him, "Dude, come on, we can't work for free."

"...well, yeah, but the principle-"

"We'll pay you after we have our killer captured." Yates explained, "Look boys, this is very complicated..."

"Allow me." Morgan Freeman stepped forward.

"Hey, how the hell did he get in here? This is a closed office." Yates said, looking to the door, which Barbrady stood in front of and shrugged.

"For the last few months, an elusive killer has been kidnapping town residents who feel like they don't want to live and putting them through a series of grueling tests in which they may either live or die. The previous victims all made it back out alive, but now the killer has gone a step further, and taken five hostages in an unknown location. Nobody knows the killer's true identity, or if he has any accomplices. The Mayor, who is up for re-election next month, has ordered all of Park County's officers to solve the case, and they have summoned their greatest detectives to help them crack the identity of the Jigsaw Killer." Freeman said, "You've all got quite a mess on your hands. I wish you luck with it." he nodded, a new freckle appearing under one of his eyes.

Yates looked to Barbrady, "But that still doesn't explain- where'd he go now?" he asked, looking back to where Freeman had stood, "Look boys. do you think you can handle this case or not?"

"Of course we can, Detective." Cartman rubbed his head, "It'll be no trouble. Why, I think I'm already getting a psychic vision..." Kyle slapped the side of his head, "What the fuck, Keehl?"

"We're not doing any of yout psychic bullshit again, fatass! This is serious!"

"Anyway, can I be in charge? As a former psychic, I'm clearly the most criminally experienced one here." Cartman reasoned.

"No, I'm afraid not. We've put somebody else in charge of your little operation. Inspector?" Yates said, Barbrady moving aside for a little boy with a puff of blonde hair and freckles to walk in,

"Howdy fellas! It's me, Inspector Butters!"

"...oh fuck." Cartman pinched the bridge of his nose.

xXx

It was small, cold, and very dark. The room was nearly featureless besides a single door, just coldness and blackness all around. A shadow rose up in the room and looked around. No stranger to this situation, the shadow coughed, took out a switchblade knife from his sleeve, and cut through the ties that bound his arms together. He always tried to come prepared, because if there was one thing Kenny McCormick wasn't very fond of, it was dying for the ninetieth time.

"Oh my God, where are we?" came the angelic voice of another shadow, immediately arousing Kenny's interest as he saw Sharon Marsh nearby.

"I don't know, but the floors are really dirty. If this was my own home, I'd ground my son for letting them get ths dirty!" Ah, Stephen Stotch. Say what you will about Kenny's folks, but if there was an abusive house hold in South Park, it was the Stotch home.

"How the hell are we going to get out of here?" Sharon asked nervously.

"The door's right there, dumbasses!" came the voice of a chubby teenager, as messy brown-haired Alex Samuels tried to sit up.

"God my head..." Wendy Testaburger rubbed her temple as she sat up, adjusting her pink beret.

"Everyone stand still, I'll cut you all free." Kenny said, cutting Alex's rope with little effort and then quickly cutting through Wendy's,

"Thank you." Wendy nodded gratefully.

"Yeah, whatever." Kenny rolled his eyes before approaching Sharon, grinning mischeviously, "Stay perfectly still, Mrs. Marsh." he advsed, getting in real close as he went to cut the rope around her. He had a bit more difficulty but managed to free her, grinning excitedly.

"Thanks." Sharon nodded, raising an eyebrow. Kenny then spun and cut Stephen out as well. "Well, now what?"

"Hey, I found a casette player.." Wendy reported, blowing dust off and coughing, pulling the player out.

"What the hell is that old thing?" Alex asked.

"In ancient times, before Walkmans or MP3 players, we used casette players to listen to music." Kenny said sarcastically.

"...what the hell is a Walkman?"

"Here, I found a tape!" Sharon picked one up, "It says PLAY, so we know whoever labeled it is a master of the English language." she added with sarcasm, placing it in the player.

_"Hello, there I want to play a game." came a deep, throaty, raspy voice, "I'm sure you're all wondering where you are, and I can totally assure you that's not important - what is important is that if you earn it, these walls can offer your salvation. Right now, all of you are breathing a deadly nerve agent... well okay, I couldn't afford a deadly nerve agent, so I borrowed some anthrax from some internet conspiracy dork and exposed you while you were asleep. Anyway, the only way to beat it is to find an antidote. There's some traps around there - they kinda suck but look, I'm not exactly an inventor here and it's hard to get people to invent torture devices for you - anyway, look, look, each trap has a tape with a way to escape. f you survive, you get an antidote and you live, yadda yadda, true meaning of life, yadda yadda, live or die, make your choice. Good luck!"_

"Oh come on, this is bullshit - some psycho's using us as part of his sick, twisted torture porn?" Alex Samuels said.

"It's deeper than that!" Sharon said reflexively and angrily, "I mean, um..." she turned a bit pink, "W-well, it's just, there's a meaning in all of this... this asshole is on the news all the time. He kidnaps people and puts them in these weird traps." she tried to explain, a bit nervously now.

"Yes, and he plays those tapes telling them how to escape but it's always in some gruesome, disgusting manner." Stephen piped in himself, "I mean, it's like something out of a mediocre horror film really."

"Hey, where'd you hear about this stuff, huh? Just heard it on the news?" Alex asked cynically, "And why'd you get so defensive about torture porn?" he asked Sharon.

"Well, it's been a big issue in the mayor's election and I'm a staffer on the McDaniels' campaign... though that's a good question how Sharon knows so much about it..." Stephen narrowed his eyes.

"My father-in-law was kidnapped and barely escaped." she rolled her eyes, "A-and my husband used to watch a lot of torture porn." she lied to cover for herself.

"...well, all right, that makes sense." Stephen backed off quickly, lest his own sick fetishes fall into the spotlight, "Your father-in-law? What the hell happened with him?"

"Oh, it's nothing, he's okay, but the police took him in for questioning yesterday. I doubt it'll do any good, he... has some memory problems." she explained.

"So, how are we going to get out of here?" Wendy asked, eyebrow raised.

"The door's right there, dumbass, gee, I think we'll use a window." Alex rolled his eyes.

"Look, this arguing isn't getting us anywhere, we need to find a safe way out of here." Kenny noted, crossing his arms, "I mean, the door could be booby-trapped."

Alex rolled his eyes, getting up and reaching for the doorknob, "Watch and learn, freak." He pulled it open and-

BANG.

Alex Samuels fell back to the floor, eyes glassy as if all life had left them in a moment, a blood slowly begining to pool underneath his head. More importantly, the door was open, a gun on the other end, with a poorly-built shooting mechanism.

"Guess he should've listened." Wendy told Kenny, eyes wide with horror.

"It's all right, he's an original character, nobody gives a shit about them." Stephen shrugged.

"Well come on let's find our way out." Kenny shrugged, walking past the door, with Wendy, Sharon and Stephen following.

xXx

"All right, so there's been three previous surviving victims: Sarah Valmer, Marvin Marsh, and Richard Adler." Detective Yates explained, "Detective Marsh, Murphy, you're going to be interviewing Marvin, because you're family so he'll probably spill more. Detective Broflovski, Officer Barbrady, you two will be assigned to interviewing Mrs. Valmer. Our records indicate you're good with women."

"Awh, who told you that?" Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"Gee Kyle, I just thought of how you used to go sh-sh-shopping with Lola and J-Jenny all the time..." Inspcector Butters explained.

"Butters, they thought I was gay!" Kyle said angrily, "Girls are gross, dude!"

"Haha, Kahl's a rump ranger!" Cartman pointed at him, laughing excitedly.

"Shut up, dude, I am not! I'm totally heterosexual." Kyle pointed, "I like girls, not guys!"

"Oh so what, are you some kinda h-h-homophobe?" Butters pounded his fists again.

"We've been over this before, Butters, shut up." Kyle facepalmed.

"Hey kid, you better watch that flip-flopping of your's, or you'll end up like John Kerry." Detective Yates said, crossing his arms.

"Who the hell is John Kerry?" Cartman asked.

"Exactly." Yates said, "Now, Inspector Butters, Wunderkind Cartman, you two will be interviewing Mr. Adler. Me and Lt. Dawson are going to stay here and drink cocoa and watch family programming. Now get going!"

"All right. Come on, Eric, I mean uh, Mr. Wunderkind Cartman, sir." Butters said, leading Wunderkind Cartman to Adler's room.

"Uh, Butters, we can cut the act, we all know you're a big pussy and I'm the one who's really in charge here. I mean, I'm the guy who caught George Zimmerman." Cartman pointed out, rubbing the banadge on his head and playing with his nightstick.

"No, Eric, I am your superior, and you're gonna respect my goshdarn authoritah." Butters narrowed his eyes.

"...the fuck? Don't you go stealing my fucking catchphrase, Butters! I am not afraid to use this nightstick on you, you son of a bitch!"

"Let's just do our interview, Eric. And you be gentle on ol' Mr. Adler, why, he's had it real hard since Chef died, you know, bein' the new Vice Principal and all..."

"Shut up, Butters." Cartman shook his head, opening the door. Richard Adler sat at the other side of a table in the poorly-lit interrogation room. "Hello Adler, we're here to ask you a few questions..."

"Hey, quit screwin' around kid, you screw around too much. I want to speak to a real policeman!"

"I am a policeman, sir. I helped catch the Left Hand Killer and Geo-"

"Eric, quit listin' out stuff. It's just a lazy excuse to fill space in the c-c-conversation and doesn't add nothin'!" Butters interrupted.

"Ignore him. Look, we're going to go easy on you, but-" Cartman stood up, gently slapping the palm of his hand with the nightstick threateningly.

"Why the hell d'you have a nightstick?" Adler asked in horror.

"Sir, the nightstick is the easy way, a rifle is the hard way, I think you deserve some benefit of the doubt. Also, the stand your ground law doesn't apply in a police station... whatever, look, that asshole Jigsaw has a bunch of hostages in God knows where and we need you to tell us everything you know. There are women and children at stake, syah!"

"Well, I put everything in the police report-"

Cartman slapped the table with his nightstick, "No you didn't, you black asshole. You barely gave us horse shit to work with. Tell us what really happened. I am not afraid to use this hyah nightstick. Tell him, Butters."

"Uh, h-he's not afraid to use that the-yah nightstick, sir." Butters parrotted.

"Al right, I held back a little, but really, what else can I say to help? The police report told you everything important, honest to God..." Adler reasoned.

"You're breaking my balls here, sir. We are cops and you have to respect our autoritah, do you hear me?"

"...if you kids take shop this year, so help me, I am giving you both D's. Do you hear me? D's! Try getting into an Ivy League School with a D in shop class! I mean, at the very least, it'll be a mild inconvenience, it might even prevent you from getting some financial aid! Ever think of that? A D!"

"Oh golly Eric, my parents'll ground me if Mr. Adler gives me the D!"

Cartman pinched the bridge of his nose, "Butters, Jesus Christ you didn't really just say that..." he sighed, "Look, Barbrady let this slide because he has... issues and all, but you didn't tell us anything about the tape. "

"Well he just went on about how after my wife's death, I had trouble dealing with it, with my suicide attempt and my addiction to pills... which was weird, because I stopped taking the pills a year and a half ago... anyway, he started going on about how blah blah people ungrateful for their lives blah blah can't throw things away blah blah test if I really wante dot die blah blah..."

"Huh, that's weird. I can't find a motive in there at all." Cartman rubbed his chin.

"What? Y'mean the whole people being ungrateful for their lives thing wasn't a big ol' clue?" Butters asked.

"Shut up, Butters, let's go see if anybody else has figured any of this shit out." Cartman got down from the chair, "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Adler, you've been totally useless."

"Can I be untied now?" Mr. Adler asked angrily.

"N-no, they didn't tell us we could untie you... and could you please not give me the D, Mr. Adler? I really don't want the D."

"R-right, I-I won't give you the-the D..." Mr. Adler shivered. Jesus Christ, did he really sound that awful?

"It's just that I already have a D this yeasr, and my dad told me if I get Double D's, why, I'll be grounded again." Butters stood in the doorway.

"Double D's?"

Butters truned back for a second, "Oh, well I had a cavity in my teeth and was gonna get some implants, you know, like fake teeth. Anyway, see ya later, Mr. Adler!" he waved and left.

"...that boy ain't right."

**To Be Continued...**


End file.
